Drowning
by BertyBarbariusFishiez
Summary: Harry and Sirius play quiditch. Harry drowns. Rated T for swearing, just to be safe.


AN- Wrote this eating chocolate- Chocolate impairs my judgement. It's a bit rushed and short too. Rushed and short and full of spontaneous stupidity. That's what makes a bad story. Never mind.

Any requests?

What was that on the ceiling? It was a long way away. It was black and small and had lots of legs. What was it? How long had I been lying there, my thoughts pondering on the morbid possibilities of the black dot- maybe it was part of the last person to occupy that room.

Splat! Goes the onomatopoeia.

I opened my eyes- when did I shut them? "Just getting the spider off your ceiling." I felt a weight on the side of my mattress and focused my eyes to see Sirius stood on my bed peeling the remains off the ceiling. And my thoughts on what it was died with it.

"Sirius?" I croaked, rubbing my eyes and sitting up before reaching to find my glasses which I had abandoned on the bedside table. "What are you doing in here?" I was slow, I was void of thoughts and I was tired.

"Killing the spider," He murmured before speaking clearly, much to my relief. Murmuring made me bubble like water. That would be most poetic if it made sense- if water boiled just like that, and if water had anything to do with anything. "And waking you up. It's 11!" I wondered if he meant 11 in the morning or in the evening. I'm sure Sirius would wake me up after an hour of sleep if there was a spider on the ceiling.

I didn't even get a chance to name it. Gerard. I name it Gerard. I then realized I'd slept since, a while. Though I couldn't have been sleeping all that time since I'd started aimlessly up for at least a few hours.

"You slept with the light on." Sirius pointed out, pulling the small cord of the little light to switch it off, allowing only natural light that had filtered through the curtains in. I don't remember sleeping with the light on, but then I don't remember sleeping. Sirius went and ripped open the curtains in an overdramatic, too happy way. I squinted as my eyes were bombarded by the harsh, unforgiving light.

Can light be harsh or unforgiving?

I think so, because everything is living. The kettle boils to life each morning, waking up with a yawn and a stretch, the toaster dances violently, my bed creaks and talks, the mirror strives to copy me and pens pour their hearts out onto pieces of paper.( Not that we use paper or pens, quills and parchment are the way forward.)

I strayed from the point, from the story.

"Why are you so sleepy anyway? Stay up all night?" I could imagine the pervy thoughts being processed in Sirius' mind.

"No." I said honestly; swinging my bony legs out of the bed so my feet touched the floor. "I don't know why I'm sleepy; probably just too much quiditch."

Ha- how I lie. I'm so funny. My lies crack me up. I lie. Oh how I lie. I lie, I lie, I lie! I'm not amused in the slightest my lies. They're not funny. Don't even pretend. Has my mind warped into something so mental that I repeat words? Oh yes.

"Hmm… I smell fish." Obviously metaphorical fish. Oh, Sirius said.

"You do?" I joked. Why not joke? It wasn't a 'ha ha' joke. Just a 'oh dear, I sense something serious about to approach, let's turn this into some sort of joke.

"I'll meet you down stairs in a bit." Sirius practically skipped from the room, a mischievous grin etched on his ageing face. Smelly beans. And I was left with, oh dear, my thoughts. Solitude was not good on the soul: No man is an island.

Sure enough, and though very predictable, I met Sirius down stairs. Down stairs was huge however, so I took a while finding him. Though unimportant details probably bore you. Sirius told me to bring my broom stick and we went into the conveniently placed country side of a back garden. Not to sound unrealistic.

Sirius held up a snitch. "Let's see who can catch this first." He had a cunning smile, suggesting he had just done something cunning. He hadn't really. Before he could even let go of it I grabbed it out his hand.

"I won!" I said triumphantly. Sirius snatched it back.

"Now I've won." I snatched it back and suddenly hovered up on my broom.

"Not unless you catch me!" Sirius laughed as I flew away and was soon following behind me. I'd say my mind was clear and I felt brilliant, but I just felt empty of thoughts. A while later Sirius was out of sight so I began to turn back, hoping to find Sirius.

I felt suddenly very dizzy, my vision faded. Not faded to black, but to nothing. I vaguely remember falling, well, not falling as such, more losing my balance. My grip on my broom faltering. I didn't really register anything until I was plummeting to my inevitable doom, my broom hopelessly falling far from me. I felt so tired. I just wanted to sleep.

I felt very wet, all over. A loud noise in my ears- like a hoover. I was too tired to think. I opened my eyes but it was too blurry, then nothing. But I didn't care somehow- I didn't understand what was going on. What was this burning in my lungs?

"Harry!" A recognized that voice. "Harry!" Why did it sound so panicked? Maybe something was burning in the kitchen? Why was I wet? I was shaking. I was cold. I shuddered before opening my eyes. "Harry?" This time it was a whisper. Who was this?

"Sirius?" I whispered when I remembered who the voice belonged to. My sight was blurry, I felt slightly sick. That feeling happened to increase when I realized what must have just happened.

"Harry? Thank merlin." He breathed a breath of relief. "I thought- I thought-" I tried to sit up but found myself unable to do so. It was raining, I realized that only when the heavens spat on my face. Wasn't I unfortunate enough without being spat on? The grass was soft beneath my back, the mud massaging its self into my hair. Nice.

"What happened?" I croaked before erupting in a burst of choking and coughing. Sirius helped me to sit up. I wasn't sure, but I didn't think you were supposed to lie down if you were choking. Or maybe you were.

"I found you, in the river, and, oh merlin, I thought you were fucking dead!" The swear did not go unnoticed, and it would not go unpunished. But then was not the time. The time was the dead of night with a cage of rats and an innocent face.

How could I leave you here wondering why oh why I fainted over a very mysteriously placed river? I couldn't.

Sirius had dragged me (admittedly on his broom) back to his house, by the time we got there my lips were even more blue. Sirius cursed himself for not having his wand on him. He tried to help me get changed, but I sent him away when it got too awkward.

"What, you don't want me here?" He pretended to feel rejected.

"I just think it's awkward." I wasn't really in the mood for jokes.

Why do they call them crabs? I mean, they're 2mm long things that live on your shlong, not freaking sea things. I had other thoughts on my mind. I'd never had crabs. I just thought about them.

"After I saved your life?" He pretended to be deep into it. "Maybe next time I'll leave you there!" He joked. It was a joke. A joke. Joke. I tried to tell myself that, but soon all I could think was that I should have been left there, after all, I was just nothing. In the grand scheme of things.

What was I anyway? I should have been left.

I brushed it off as a joke, but the thought lingered, burning a hole in the back of my head. A few minutes later I found my quivering voice and spoke:

"Sirius- What am I worth- in the grand scheme of things?" I asked, which inevitably led him back into the room. I'd have sighed if I could have been bothered. But I don't sigh. Ever.

The floor boards protested beneath his feet, the walls breathed and the wind hummed.

"You're worth everything. You're a living, breathing human worth everything." I noticed him repeating. In primary school your taught never to repeat things, but then again, you spend weeks learning how to use comas incorrectly, but they teach it like it's the best thing you can do. Sorry to digress. "You have a pulse and that's good enough for me."

I think you could interpret that in any way. But the message he tried to get across was that everything is worth something, even the kettle that boils to life in the morning. The butter knife that- I'll stop there. You could probably have figured that all out yourself if I wrote this properly. But I didn't, so there you go. My thoughts flashed back to the unjust execution of the spider on my (living) ceiling. Rest in peace Gerard the spider.

RIP.


End file.
